


You´ll never walk alone

by orphan_account



Category: Anyelle - Fandom, Bellix
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-25
Updated: 2013-02-25
Packaged: 2017-12-03 15:29:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/699758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A simple football shirt is all that is needed to seduce him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You´ll never walk alone

He wakes up by a humming noise. The awesome voice he’s fallen for hums and then starts to sing lowly. He rubs his eyes, sighs and yawns as he fully wakes up.

“ _When you walk through a storm, hold your head up high and don’t be afraid of the dark. At the end of a storm is a golden sky and the sweet silver song of the lark.”_

He props on his elbows, opening his eyes to see where she is. He already knew when he waked up that she’s not beside him anymore. Usually she clings to him and warms him so good that a blanket is useless. But today his left side have been cold and no one was playing with his hair until he wakes up. Oh she fucking loves his hair and he fucking loves it when she plays with it, tangling her fingers in it, grabbing it, stroking through it, pulling at it. He even let it grew a bit so that she has a bit more to grab and pull at. Now he sees her staying in front of his closet, in front of the mirror of it and brushing her hair, singing this sweet song he knows by heart. With her voice singing it, it sounds thousand times better. And… Oh fucking Holy Mary! Fuck! She’s wearing one of his shirts, one of his football shirts. Bright red with white letters, the one with the number 09 and the name Rush on it. It’s too big for her; she nearly drowns in it but fuck… she looks so hot in this… so wicked, so fucking hot!

“ _Walk on through the wind. Walk on through the rain. Though your dreams. Be tossed and blown._ ”

It briefly goes over her juicy ass, her legs and feet are bare. Her gorgeous long legs with her soft thighs… She stands there in one of his Liverpool shirts and sings the clubs anthem. He never before saw something as sexy as this. He can’t take off his eyes, watches her as she continues with brushing her hair, her wonderful, silky, dark locks.

“ _Walk on, walk on with hope in your heart and you’ll never walk alone. You’ll never walk alone._ ”

He would have given her all of his shirts earlier to wear if he would have only knew how wicked she would look in these. So hot that it’s surely forbidden somewhere… There she stands… wearing his shirt… singing the anthem of the best football team of the world… He remembers the first time when he met her, she hasn’t even known what a football match is, and she hasn’t even known what football is. As she told him she comes from Maine U.S.A. it hasn’t wondered him. Fucking Yankees… no clue of what good sport truly is. Fucking Yankees… The only good thing that comes from them is this beauty in front of him. His sweet, lovely goddess called Belle.

“ _When you walk through a storm, hold your head up high and don’t be afraid of the dark. At the end of a storm is a golden…_ Oh, was I too loud? Have I woken you up? I’m sorry, it won’t happen again, I promise.” She finishes with brushing her hair, putting the brush away and turns, stopping in her movements as she sees him awake. It wasn’t her intention to wake him up; she knows too well by this time that he’s a late sleeper.

“It’s alright… I was just… admiring the view,” he grins. His eyes are wandering up and down on her, burning this sight into his mind. He needs a photo of that look of her…but not now. Now he has other things on his mind. “Do you know what you’re wearing?”

“Sorry… I know they’re sacred to you but since you needed to tear all buttons from my blouse yesterday as you ripped it off me, I needed something to put on,” she smirks. “I can’t walk around naked here.”

“Why not? I would appreciate it.”

“Because your mother’s still downstairs,” she giggles lowly. She wonders if he would ever move out.

He’s patting the spot next to him, telling her silently that she should come back to bed. “For all I care you can wear my shirts everyday. But I can’t promise you that you could leave my bedroom if you do so.” Her giggle is a soft music in his ears.

She comes closer, crawling on the bed again. She straddles him, her hands resting on his belly. “So… no more skirts and dresses? Only football shirts and jeans?”

“I haven’t said that. But only in a shirt of mine… Your want to seduce me, woman, right?”

“I hadn’t that in mind,” she smiles. “But if it only needs a football shirt to seduce you…”

“You know that this is a special shirt?”

“Ian Rush, number nine, striker for the Liverpool team from 1980 to 1987 and from 1988 to 1996. He achieved 346 goals totally and with that he’s the best goal scorer in the history of the Liverpool team.”

“Fuck, woman! You really want to seduce me!” He doesn’t know a single woman who would know this. Well, now he does. He’s sure she read it in some book. Belle and her beloved books... The first time he visited her at her flat he couldn’t take a single step without knocking over a pile of books. “Do you know how sexy that is? You wearing my shirt and telling me this?” He never knew before he could get hard only by the knowledge of a woman. But there’s always a first time.

She giggles as he sits up, placing his hands on her hip and bringing her on her back. She shifts a bit beneath him, grinning up to him. It was a good decision of her to get all these books about football but still she can’t understand his obsession with that. But maybe he also can’t understand her obsession with books. He has his passion and she has hers and it’s good that way. Back in Stroybrooke she would have never learned to known what this football is. But it’s quite fascinating how passionate people can be about this. She once saw a match with him on TV. They’re singing and screaming, dressed in the singlet of their favourite team, wearing scarfs, their faces painted in the colours of their club… They’re jumping from their seats, shouting, yelling, whistling, and celebrating when their club makes a goal, when twenty men are running after a ball.

He bends over her, capturing her mouth with his own and conquering it. His lips pressing onto her, nibbling at her bottom lip, his tongue stroking over it. He draws sweet sighs from her, sweet pleasurable sounds while he lures her tongue, playing with it and his hands slipping underneath her shirt.  His lips are wandering over her cheek to her ear and nibbling at her earlobe. “Tell me more you know,” he breathes already in a husky voice, going deeper and caressing her neck.

She sighs with relish as he starts to lick over her neck, biting at the sweet little spot beneath her ear. His hands are finding her breasts under the shirt, squeezing them softly until she writhes beneath him. “They’re called… The Reds… Founded in 1892,” she pants. With closed eyes she enjoys how he’s caressing her. She puts her arms around his shoulders, one hand going upwards to his neck and into his hair.

“More,” he murmurs, busy with her neck and sucking at the thin skin. His thumbs brushing over her rosy buds, rolling them between his fingers until they’re hardening. Again he gives that lovely flesh little squeezes. Her breasts are just perfect, just made for his hands, full and soft… He can feel how she shivers beneath him while he spreads kisses and lovely bites on her sensitive skin. Her sounds full with dawning lust.

“Founded by John Houlding… they won 18-times the Football League First Division… 3-times the UEFA-Cup…  Once they won with eleven goals in one match… and they played… their first match… against RotherhamTown…” She sighs as he starts to bite her neck, pinching her buds; a low moan leaves her lips. She arches herself more into his hands, pulling softly at his hair, rubbing her thighs against his hip.

He growls against her skin, enjoying her demanding hand in his hair. The foreplay wouldn’t last long if she would tell him more together with her hand in his hair and herself arching against him. Another groan slips his lips as she rubs against him.

“The highest transfer fee they ever paid for a player… is about 35 million pounds for Andy Carroll… Currently… they’re on the 8th place… in the Premier League…”

He’s getting harder with every second; it’s throbbing and twitching inside of him. “God woman! You’re driving me insane,” he pants. With a growl his hands slipping downwards until his fingers are catching her panty. He simply rips it off of her; it is too annoying for him by now. He needs to feel her so very close, her hot bare skin against his own. In a different way he would have thought of himself as fucking screwed by getting hard because of the football knowledge of a woman. But this here is Belle, beautiful, smart Belle, therefore it’s legit. Her lustful voice, sighing for him, is pure music in his ears. He pushes himself between her legs; she welcomes him, placing her thighs at his sides. Immediately he presses his lips onto hers, kissing her passionately while his hands roaming again over her body beneath the shirt. She should continue wearing it. It should soak in her scent, he want to smell her when he’s wearing it. With nibbling at her bottom lip he growls her name as she opens her lips for him, luring him with her tongue. A groan as he can feel how slick and hot she is for him, only waiting for him to claim her. He decides to tease her a little more. She should go as insane as he is because of her. No matter how urgently the throbbing need within him is. But he throws his plan away as she sighs his name, pleading it. His name sounds so fucking delicious on her tongue… He can’t hold back anymore.

She breaks the kiss with a moan as he enters her, filling her with his hardness. She holds her breath for a moment, opening her eyes and looking straight into his. The brown eyes are now hazy and glassy with lust. He captures again her mouth, groaning against her lips as he starts to move. She holds onto him, pressing her legs more firmly into his sides, pulling passionately at his hair and eliciting another groan from him. How she loves these groans… Full of lust and desire…

His thrusts are low and caressing, firmly he presses into her and drawing lustful sounds from her. Seeing how her eyes are reflecting his own lust increases the fever within him. The heat gets stronger with every move. The heat and urgent need, the constant throbbing. He breaks from her lips, wandering again to her neck. Hearing how she whimpers his name nearly finishes him. As she gives him sweet little and red scratches on his back, pulling at his hair, he increases his pace. To feel her hot and soft body, hearing her desire, tasting her… she is just so fucking perfect… Nothing could be better than having sex in the morning right after he wakes up, with her in his red football shirt. They should make a habit of it. And she could renew the marks she leaves with her nails every morning. Marks he would wear with pride like she would wear his. He needs to taste more of her. With both hands he pushes the shirt higher. With a growl he takes one sweet bud between his lips, teasing it with his tongue and teeth. Her sounds of relish are telling him how good he is. He breathes on the wet skin, caressing it again before he takes care of the other breast.

She presses herself more against him, moving with him. She needs so much more… She wants everything. She already feels dizzy… “Felix… please…” A joyful sound slips from her lips as he fulfils her plea.

He embraces her with one arm to hold her close, the other hand strokes over her body, kneading and massaging her thigh, placing her leg a little bit higher. He fills her deeper, harder and faster. Just hearing his name with her high-pitched voice, pleadingly… He buries his face in the crook of her neck, kissing and biting, licking over these sweets spots and breathing against them. He feels every shiver, every tremor of her delightful body. This is how paradise must feel like. He can’t imagine anything better than her wanting, pleadingly body beneath his. Grunting her name he lowers his pace as she tightens around him, holding him closer, holding him with every thrust a bit longer inside of her. Oh, he wants to be buried inside of her for always… There couldn’t be anything better… A wave of ecstasy and heat rushed through him, the throbbing and twitching within him becomes unbearable. Her little ´Oh God!` makes him grinning but it’s fainting as soon as it appears, overwhelmed by his own desire and need. Another whimper, arching into him, again her nails dragging over his back, pulling at his hair and he knows she’s close, so very close.

She presses her thighs into his waist, drawing her knees closer to her chest. She lays her back with a loud moan as she feels him deeper, as he hits that sweet little spot inside of her that drives her insane. Only a few thrusts more and she screams his name in pure delight, clenching around him, holding him tight. She still trembles as he spent himself.

Gasping he rests in her, holding still. He sighs as she strokes through his hair, so kind and lovingly… His face in the crook of her neck he snuggles against her, completely satisfied. How she screams his name is the best reward he can get. And now enjoying with her the sweet aftermath… her skin still burning hot, still trembling and her flushed cheeks… She looks like a fucking Madonna… His very own, personal Madonna.

She looks at him, totally exhausted but smiling. She kisses him softly, stroking his hair back. “I guess… I should wear your shirts more often?”

“When you ask me… twenty-four-seven,” he pants, trying to catch his breath again. “But for now… I would rather see you without anything but me upon you.”

She giggles as he pulls up on his knees, drawing her with him and seconds later the shirt is lying useless on the floor. With a big grin she starts to sing again. “ _Walk on, walk on with hope in your heart and you’ll never walk alone. You’ll never walk alone._ ” With great relish she hears his rumbling voice. All these books about the football club of Liverpool were a very, very good investment. 


End file.
